


By The Pricking Of My Thumbs

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [58]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 15th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, LadiesMaid!Caroline, Mind Games, klarolineauweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caroline's newest employer, the lovely Katerina Petrova has been invited to her suitor's country house. Once there Caroline senses something off about the Mikaelson's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By The Pricking Of My Thumbs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day Four of klarolineauweek. AU: Timeshift.

**By The Pricking Of My Thumbs**

**(Prompt: For day 21, could you write something about Caroline being Katherine's maid, Klaus felt intrigued by her after meeting her, but she suspects something and tries to avoid him. Title from Macbeth. Rated T.)**

Caroline attributed her initial uneasiness to shock – having stepped down from the carriage, assisted by a footman, her eyes had widened and her lips parted, upon glimpsing the familiar façade of Pavenham Park. She had occupied the servant's quarters for three years, serving the current Viscountess. Abruptly dismissed with most of the staff, due to the couples' finances being scandalously disarrayed, Caroline had been left scrambling for a new positon. A comfortable, permanent post had been hard to find ever since.

But Caroline had high hopes for her most recent gamble.

Miss Katerina Petrova is stunningly beautiful, and Caroline senses a wealth of determination to the girl, and more than average brains. Miss Petrova was determined to make a good match and Caroline was betting on her ability to make it happen. She had set about making herself invaluable, her attention to detail and skill with a needle being the things that had elevated her above her mother's housemaid status as a young girl. Katerina needed any edge she could get, her murky background a hindrance to many potential suitors, and Caroline's keen eye for fashion (and her vast knowledge of the workings of the nobility) provided one.

Caroline did not much like the young woman, truth be told. Found her a bit cold and calculating. Often snobbish. But that was fine as long as she was well paid and not mistreated. In the end Caroline rather suspected that those exact qualities would be what made Katerina's husband hunt a smashing success.

Caroline had been coaching her, helping her smooth out her accent, thankful for the lessons Tyler Lockwood, heir to the title of the household she had been born into, had once bestowed on her. Katerina's dresses were just on the edge of scandalous, per Caroline's design, her hair always arranged to show off the flawless beauty of her face. All the better to lure a man with deep pockets and little sense. Caroline was certain that such a man would serve Katerina's purposes perfectly.

It could be exhausting work and sleep was scarce. Caroline had scrambled for the last portion of their journey, trying to repair the damage the long carriage ride had done to Katerina's hair and ensemble.

They had high expectations for this particular invitation. Katerina was certain that, if she played her cards exactly right, she would be leaving with a betrothal secured. Caroline fervently hoped that the girl was correct.

Her frantic attention to Katerina had meant that she had paid no attention to the scenery, had not noted the familiar roads and countryside. Lord and Lady Saltzman, Pavenham Park's former occupants, had retreated to the small country estate of Lady Saltzman's niece Lady Elena Salvatore. The soft hearted girl easily convincing her doting husband to take pity on her only living relation. Pavenham itself was entailed, but rumor was that it, along with the rest of the Viscount's possessions (those that could not be sold to cover the debts resulting from his excesses with drink and gambling) were being rented out.

Caroline thought it is odd, to think of another family living in it. Different servants seeing to its upkeep. She glances at the people who have corrugated, and are watching Katerina's approach. Narrows her eyes suspiciously, because something seems _off_. The two men at the forefront are not speaking and something about the way they stand, so straight and still, nary a twitch or fidget out of either of them, sets off a low alarm in the back of Caroline's brain.

She had been warned of people like that. From her father, who cautioned her to beware of men who seemed impervious to things that should make a normal person uncomfortable. He had made her sit for hours as a child, teaching her to clear her mind and protect her thoughts. Caroline had always thought the exercises silly, his tales fanciful. But she had enjoyed spending time with him, whiling away her free moments with him in the stables amongst the horses.

Now, she wonders if she should have taken his words about unnatural creatures more seriously. The sun was hot, and the bugs were out, buzzing distractingly. But neither of the men seemed to notice, and in truth, the flies gave them a wide berth.

Caroline quickly schools her face into a pleasant mask, pushing her wild suspicions away, and falls into step a few paces behind Caroline. She keeps her eyes low, but does her best to observe. She had not yet encountered Katerina's suitor, a Niklaus Mikaelson. Or his brother, that Katerina spoke of in worryingly blushing tones. Caroline had tried to gently steer the conversations back to Niklaus, curious if there was anything Katerina could tell her that might be an advantage they could press. But she had only gotten the barest of information. Handsome, but in a different way than his brother. Quiet, but watchful. Interested in art, horses and chess.

Caroline had faith that Katerina would be wise, sensed that the girl had little choice, no family or wealth to fall back on, save for the kindness of her sponsor.

The men waiting to greet them are accompanied by an older woman and a handful of footmen. The footmen descend on the carriage, with a nod from the fairer man, and Caroline bites her tongue to keep in the directions she wants to bark. She had packed with great care, and several items in the smaller valises were delicate.

Caroline restrains herself, with great effort. It was not her place to order servants about in this household.

Yet.

One of the men steps forward, takes Katerina's hand and drops a kiss on the back of it, murmuring a compliment, and inquiring about the journey. Katerina flushes prettily, answers politely. The man has darker hair, and is impeccably dressed. Caroline could not wait to make the acquaintance of his valet and compliment his work. She knows that the better coiffed of the pair is Elijah, the brother, from Katerina's descriptions.

But it is the other man who catches Caroline's attention, and not only because he is attractive. He is, of course, with his windblown curls and full lips. His dress is not as fine as his brother's, less strictly adhering to the fashions – sleeves not quite as full, his doublet not as tightly cinched. He gives the appearance of a man who prefers utility to style, though his clothing is fine and he wears it well.

He is also looking at her, with something like interest in the deep blue of his eyes.

Caroline is used to being invisible, prefers it, to the odd man who thought that her station meant that they could take what they wanted from her. But this man seems to _see_ her, and though she detects some appreciation, it is not base or lecherous. It doesn't make her skin crawl, or have her itching to flee.

Nor does it make her feel at ease. It is as if he is assessing her, and has yet to decide if he finds her wanting.

Caroline stiffens her spine, lifting her chin just a touch, and waits for the greetings to be finished. She nods at the head housekeeper, once the woman is introduced, follows when told, to assist in preparing a bath for Katerina, to wash the dust of travel from her person before dinner.

She feels eyes on her back, as she mounts the stone steps to the manor's door, knows without a doubt to whom they belong to.

She only hopes that Niklaus Mikaelson remembers his manners if their paths cross again.

* * *

Ghosting through the familiar hallways once Katerina is abed, Caroline lets her mind wander. Her initial impression, that something was not right with the occupants of Pavenham Park, had yet to go away.

The servants were unnaturally quiet, and Caroline had not managed to unearth even the tiniest nugget of gossip from them. The Mikaelsons were either the best employers in creation, or the worst, and it was fear not loyalty that kept things so circumspect below stairs.

She has no candle, confident in her ability to navigate her way from the guest wing to the servant's sleeping quarters. She had made the same trip dozens upon dozens of times. Elena had been a frequent guest of Lady Saltzman's and her own ladies maid – a timid little mouse of a thing named April - got sick on long carriage rides. Elena was too kind and compassionate to replace her, so Caroline was made to do double duty when Lady Saltzman's niece visited.

She passes an open doorway, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Is startled, when a throat clears behind her. She jumps, whirling, her hand clutching at her heart. Niklaus Mikaelson merely looks amused, lounging in the doorway in his shirtsleeves, a glass of liquor in his hand. Caroline dips a hasty curtsey, "Beg pardon, My Lord. I did not see you there."

He waves her apology away, "No matter. I am surprised you could see much of anything in the dark. We have plenty of candles, love. No need to fumble your way about."

Caroline straightens, keeping her eyes down. He is barefoot and her eyes widen, drifting away from the shocking sight. "It is no trouble, My Lord. I am familiar with this residence."

"Really?" he drawls, sounding interested. "Do tell."

Caroline bows her head, her hands twisting in her apron as she attempts to make a graceful retreat, "I do not wish to bore you, My Lord. I am certain that you have far more important things to do then listen to my employment history."

"I do not, actually," he tells her. Caroline cringes, feeling her chances of escape slipping away. "And I have been meaning to speak with you. My family takes our privacy very seriously, and I do like to impress that upon that to the servants, even the ones that are with us temporarily."

That is something of an understatement, in Caroline's opinion. In addition to the lack of chatter amongst the servant's in residence she had not been able to glean much from other sources. The Mikaelsons had money to burn, according to the whispers. The title was new, and no one was entirely sure where it came from. They had been in the country for a scant few months, and tales of where they had been before differed greatly, depending on whom you spoke to.

"I assure you, My Lord, that I would not betray any confidences."

"Hmm, we shall see," he speaks softly, contemplatively, and drains the last of his drink. "Step into the library. So we might chat more comfortably."

Caroline takes a deep breath, and it is shaky, her nerves twisting her stomach into knots. But she has little choice, so she takes a hesitant step forward. Lord Mikaelson's hand lands on her back, and Caroline starts. He pushes, gently encouraging her towards a leather seat. "Sit, love," he says, and Caroline understands that it's an order. "Get comfortable. I shall pour you a drink."

She bites back a protest. Caroline has never had a drop of alcohol other than an occasional sip of mead or sherry. She knows the liquor in the cut crystal bottles is more potent, and that could be dangerous. She really ought to keep her wits about her. But she cannot risk offending him, so she takes the glass he presses into her hands, takes the smallest of sips. It burns and she struggles not to react.

Lord Mikaelson makes a low noise of amusement, "It does take some getting used to, I will admit." He steps in front of her, seats himself on the table that sits before her chair. Caroline blinks at him in surprise, and confusion. "Now, your name is Caroline, yes?" She nods, brows furrowing. "And how old are you, Caroline?"

"Twenty," she answers automatically.

"How do you enjoy being a ladies maid?"

It is not a question she has ever been asked, not something that she ever thought she would. Her answer comes out more bluntly then she means it to, "I like it more than I liked being a laundry maid."

He makes another of those soft noises, a precursor to a laugh, reaching out and grasping her free hand. He flips it, cradling it in one of his while his fingertips trace over her palm. Her fingers twitch, an instinctive reaction to the caress, gooseflesh racing up her arm. "It would be a pity," he murmurs. "To have all this pretty skin ruined by something as mundane as laundry."

Caroline blushes, squirms uncomfortably. Her hands are likely rougher than he is used to, the pads of her fingers toughened from repeated pricks of sewing needles. But he does not seem to mind, his fingers tracing upwards and stroking the fluttering pulse of her wrist.

This is highly improper, but she has no idea how to extricate herself.

He drops her hand, shifting back to study her face. "How did you make the transition?" he asks. "It is a rare feat, you must admit."

Caroline clears her throat, "I… learned to read and write when I was young. A friend taught me. I was pressed into helping Lady Lockwood with her correspondence, and then little duties were added. My sewing was praised, so I was elevated."

His eyes narrow, "And why did you leave the Lockwood's service?"

Caroline presses her lips together, considers how best to answer. The truth was that Tyler Lockwood's designs on her grew beyond friendship, as he had aged. And that his father's failing health meant that his mother was determined that he needed to take a wife, sooner than most. Lady Lockwood had not needed Caroline around, turning Tyler's head. A stellar character reference had landed her in an elderly ladies' household. And, upon that woman's death her granddaughter had found Caroline a position with Lady Saltzman. But she highly doubted Lord Mikaelson cared about the particulars.

So she lies, "I found myself curious, about the world outside the place I had grown up. Lady Lockwood was kind enough to find me a position, in another part of the country."

"And was your curiosity satisfied? Or do you long to see more, perhaps leave England all together?"

Caroline's eyes widen, wondering at how he had read her so accurately. Caroline dreams of the sea, of lands she has only read about in snatches of books secreted from the libraries of her kinder employers. Lord Mikaelson grins, almost boyish, and distinctly pleased, "Ah, just as I had thought. You do a good job at feigning meekness, love. But your eyes do not lie if one knows how to look."

She sits up straighter, having forgotten her posture as she had sipped her drink and watched him. His words alarm her, and she stutters for an apology, "I… I am sorry, My Lord. I do hope I have not offended you…"

His skin on hers, when he takes her hand startles her, her teeth snapping together audibly. "You have not," he tells her. Caroline goes still, when his hand cups her jaw. "Shh, love," he croons, "I just want to test one little thing." His grip tightens, tilting her head slightly down, his eyes boring into hers. They dilate, his pupils overtaking the blue of his irises and he speaks firmly, "Take off your dress for me."

He releases her and Caroline's jaw drops, her hand whipping out intent on slapping him soundly. He catches her wrist, in a swift movement, the set of his face calculating. "Now that is interesting," he murmurs. "Apologies for my forwardness, but I had to be sure."

Caroline is shaking, her anger overriding her reason, "How dare you?" she hisses. She shoves the chair back, moving away from him, "I am not…"

She finds herself against a wall, his hand cradling the back of her head, protecting it from the impact. She blinks in shock, because she had not seen him move, had barely felt _herself_ move, and they are several meters from where they had started. His voice draws her attention back to him, "Tell me, Caroline. What is your father's name?"

Caroline presses her lips together stubbornly, shifting her head so she is looking passed him. She feels his body shake this time, the low rich sound of his laughter reaching her ears. He pulls her cap from her head, followed by the pins that hold her hair in place. Caroline goes rigid, closing her eyes and refusing to think about the heat of his body pressed against hers. "You do not truly have to tell me, sweetheart. Because I'm fairly certain I already know. Lord Lockwood, unlike most of his peers, was not a man of leisure. Had some very interesting hobbies. Was often accompanied by his groom, a man named William Forbes. Together, in their prime, they were just about the best vampire hunters the world has ever seen."

Heaven help her but her father had been _right_.

There is only one conclusion Caroline can draw. "You are one of them, then? A vampire?" The question comes out heavily laced with resignation.

"One of the first," he confirms easily, his hands sifting through her hair oddly soothing and hypnotic.

"Are you going to kill me?" Caroline asks, proud that though her voice is small it does not waver. Her eyes are still closed so she does not see him move. But she lets out a gasp, feeling his lips on her throat, the rasp of his tongue tasting her skin.

His words brush against her skin, "Because of your father? No. He only killed those that made a spectacle of themselves. Saved me the trouble. And I find myself most interested in how he taught you to do what should be impossible."

Caroline swallows hard. Licks her dry lips. Lord Mikaelson's eyes follow the movement, a hunger in his gaze. But Caroline finds she needs more than that poor excuse for an answer, and decides she has little to lose from presuming more. "Then afterwards, once I am no longer of use. Do I die then?"

"I find that I do not particularly want you to," he tells her, sounding almost as surprised as she. His mouth lowers, nudging her severe collar aside. "I think you will make a glorious vampire. That watching you learn to _take_ what you want will be endlessly fascinating. But, I have a plan in place, love. One I have spent centuries working on. I will not have anything disrupting it, not even a fascinating little thing like you. So I suppose your fate is in your hands."

Caroline finds that she does not mind the idea. Welcomes it, because her life has so often been subject to the whims of others.

She forces her eyes open, staring at him warily, "I do not want to die," she tells him resolutely.

Lord Mikaelson looks satisfied, a faint smirk curling his mouth. His hands skim her curves, the ones her shapeless grey dress conceals, a touch of possessiveness in his grasp. And something in Caroline likes it, though she knows she should not.

"I thought not. Your sharp mind and iron spine won't allow you to give. I can use that. Tell me, sweetheart, just how attached are you to Katerina?"

"Not particularly, Lord Mikaelson," Caroline allows.

His smirk widens, eyes lighting up with mischief, Caroline's heart speeds up, shifting restlessly against him in response. His low, intimate tone does not help to dull the unfamiliar twinges low in her belly, "Excellent. I'm certain we can work things out in a manner that will benefit us both. And, love? I think you should call me Klaus."


End file.
